"mom……"
His voice was a little dry, with the hoarseness typical of teenagers.
"Stop crying."
Dong Yulan's crying gradually became softer, but her body was still shaking.
Fu Zhewei clumsily wiped the tears from Qingqing's face with his fingertips and continued, "I bought pig's feet and pork belly. Look, don't we have some soybeans at home? Soak them and make some vermicelli noodles. Tonight we'll make soybean stew with pig's feet to nourish Qingqing, and then make pork stew with vermicelli noodles."
His tone was calm, but the content of his words made Dong Yulan's heart skip a beat.
Pig's feet...pork belly...
How long has it been since their family touched these things?
"Today... Dad should be coming back from the farm." Fu Zhawei lowered his eyelashes. "He's been... losing a lot of weight recently. It's time for him to eat some more."
"Hurry up and get up. The ground is cold. Go and cook. Once the pot is heated up, the house will be warmer."
She wiped the tears from her face vigorously, sniffed, and stood up from the ground.
"Okay, okay... Mom will go cook right away." Dong Yulan choked back her words, wiping the tears from her face with the rough edge of her sleeve. She forced herself to stand up, her eyes fixed on her son's thin face, her eyes filled with unbearable heartache: "Zhewei, you've been hungry all day too. The meal will be ready soon, so eat more."
After saying this, she didn't stop, carefully gathered the money and bills, and turned to go into the low, dim kitchen next door. Soon, the sounds of rustling fire and washing things could be heard from inside.
Fu Zhawei stood there for a moment, listening to the noises in the kitchen, and his tense shoulders relaxed slightly.
He turned around and walked into Fu Qingqing's small room.
The room is warmer than the living room outside, but the temperature is limited.
Fu Qingqing was lying on the bed, already fast asleep.
Perhaps the medicine was taking effect, or perhaps the cup of malted milk soothed her, but she was sleeping soundly, her breathing was long and even, but there was still a sickly blush on her little face.
Fu Zhawei walked lightly to the bedside, carefully stretched out his hand, and gently touched his sister's forehead with the back of his hand.
It was warm, not as hot as a soldering iron.
He breathed a sigh of relief, and his heart was half relieved.
Then he moved the black "stove" in the corner towards the bed.
After doing all this, he sat down gently on the edge of the bed.
He sat quietly, his eyes fixed on his sister's peaceful sleeping face for a long time.
He averted his gaze, but couldn't help himself and took out the letter that he had carefully folded.
The dim flames danced, illuminating the rough letter paper. His gaze once again fell on the delicate yet familiar handwriting.
【My dear deskmate Fu, it’s nice to see you in person.】
Just seven words, a simple opening.
He seemed to be possessed, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the seven words, and he recited them silently over and over again in his heart and on his lips.
The late moonlight was not very bright, a thin layer, as cold as water, quietly pouring on the frozen ground in the yard. The scattered barking of dogs in the distance made the night in this mountain village even more quiet.
In the moonlight, everything seemed hazy and unreal, just like his current mood, chaotic and turbulent, with no clear outlet.
【Fu Zhewei, don't think about it. 】
A voice suddenly sounded in the deepest part of my heart.
【She is already married.】
[Perhaps she simply knew the true value of the jade bracelet and felt bad about it, so she contrived to have someone send this money and bills, so as to... settle the matter.]
【And...】
[Even if she's not married... like you, Fu Zhewei, look at yourself... do you think... you're still worthy of her?]
Don't think about it anymore.
He gave himself a final order in his heart, trying to suppress the thoughts that were growing like weeds and constantly surging.
He slowly closed his eyes, and his long eyelashes cast a small, thick shadow under his thin eyelids.
The young man's well-defined face looked a little pale under the cool moonlight filtering through the window and the faint glow of the charcoal fire in the stove, but he also had a calmness and forbearance that was beyond his age.
The emotions that were surging and roaring in his chest like boiling water seemed to be thrown into extremely cold ice cubes, cooling down bit by bit, and finally, slowly, slowly, they were buried in this room with leaky walls and a bone-chilling cold.
【if……】
[If, in the future, I can leave here alive... and reach Kyoto...]
【Go again... and thank her properly.】
He refolded the letter and put it back in his inner pocket, close to his chest.
***
My wife will come to see you soon~~
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